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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036841">Stiles and Coffee is Not a Good Match</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FogDog1738/pseuds/FogDog1738'>FogDog1738</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Stiles Stilinski, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Coffee, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale is also a Flirt, Don't copy to another site, Eternal Sterek, First Meetings, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, One Shot, Police AU, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Stiles Stilinski is a Flirt, sterek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:41:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036841</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FogDog1738/pseuds/FogDog1738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The police AU where Stiles is anxious about starting his new job at the Beacon Hills Police Station so he buys coffee to relax. Little does he know, doors are evil and result in awkward times for all!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stiles and Coffee is Not a Good Match</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanesDust/gifts">EvanesDust</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The best idea Stiles could come up with for beating his nerves was drinking coffee. It was hit or miss whether or not it would make him hyperactive or not an hour after drinking it, but that was a risk he was willing to take. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s his first day working at the police station in Beacon Hills; a goal he set for himself since he was little. He always looked up to his dad and what he did for the town. He wanted to be a part of that. He wanted to make a difference in people’s lives. So he went through training and went back to his hometown for work. As excited as he was, anxiety always loomed within his brain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling his trusty Jeep into the parking lot of Starbucks on the way to the station, he taps his hands on the steering wheel. There was a perfect spot for him to park right by the door. He smiles at the small blessing in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He exits the vehicle, making his way to the front door. He steps into the shop, inhaling the sweet smell of morning coffee being served to customers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The line is a few customers long, most of them standing close to the far wall on the left. A man carries a child in his arms, bouncing her up and down steadily to keep her calm. Behind him, a woman leans against the gray wall, looking at the rest of the shop around her in disappointment. She clutches her messenger bag strap tightly. Last in line is a teenager in a red hoodie who moves back and forth, shifting their weight between the balls and heels of their feet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles places himself behind the teenager, mimicking a piano tune from a song he heard on the radio on the ride here with his fingers on the side of his leg. As the customers move forward at what seems like an ungodly, turtle-like pace, Stiles eventually unlocks an achievement in his day:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Order a smoked butterscotch latte at Starbucks!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The cashier is cheerful while she completes his order, shouting it back to the workers behind her. Stiles smiles a ‘thank you’ to her as he shifts his feet to the other end of the counter to wait for his drink. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls out his phone to waste time as his drink is brewed. A text from Scott is patiently waiting for his eyes to read, expressing how excited he is that Stiles is back in town and working for the station. He grins at the text, quickly sending out a reply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Stiles: Thanks buddy! We should meet up sometime. That jawline of yours would be a sight for sore eyes</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ brain physically can’t wait for a reply, so his fingers tap through social media apps to pass the time. Instagram is suddenly on his screen. The feed presents pictures of Lydia, posing for pictures in some place unknown to Stiles. He knew she intended to travel and he’s glad she’s living her dreams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he swipes through the pictures, the barista calls out his name and sets his drink on the counter. He swiftly locks his phone and slides it in his pocket, advancing to obtain the drink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he walks back toward the door, he takes a sip. The scent is astounding and the taste of the drink trickling down his throat is heavenly. A wide smile spreads over his entire face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes the door open, stepping out awkwardly while trying to take another sip. The door swings back and catches his arm, almost spilling his drink. Fortunately, the lid keeps every drop of his liquid gold in the cup.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Close one, man. Doors are evil!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Practically jogging to the Jeep, Stiles pulls the keys out of his pocket. He unlocks the door, slips the coffee into his cup holder, and starts the car with a sputter. He pulls out and back onto the road in no time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a few more minutes of driving around idiots on the road and slowly taking sips of coffee, Stiles arrives at the police station. He reaches back and snatches his messenger bag from the back of his Jeep before opening the car door. His feet hit the asphalt at the same time and he turns back and slips the coffee out of it’s cup holder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He begins walking toward the front door, glancing around at the building that would be where he </span>
  <em>
    <span>works</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the foreseeable future. The coffee helps tame his hyperactive thoughts a little, giving room for excitement and anticipation to fill his body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arriving at the front door, he pulls it open quickly and starts walking inside. However, the door pulls back in too quickly, jamming the door handle into his back. He trips forward quickly at the pain, thudding into a giant wall of a man in front of him. His coffee is jared from his hand, hitting the man’s chest with a soft pop. Next thing Stiles knows, coffee is all over the floor and...</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh Jesus Christ!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, I’m so sorry!” Stiles shouts, staring at the coffee dripping from the uniform on the man in front of him. His eyes move upward to the man’s face, immediately noticing the man’s picture perfect scruff. Stiles knew he was bisexual, but goddamn! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s blue eyes stare forward at Stiles. He looks angry, but also unbothered? Stoic even. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus Christ, Stiles!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the man doesn’t speak, Stiles looks around frantically for something to help clean up the uniform of this gorgeous specimen. However, he can’t physically move to look for anything. His arms are frozen in the place that they were when he was still holding his cup. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop being an IDIOT, Stiles! Fucking move!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the man moves his hands up to his shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to keep his composure.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK! Look what you’ve done! You fucking hurt him!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles shuffles around awkwardly. “Is there anything to clean this up?” he questions, hoping someone would be able to help him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s usually a roll of paper towels behind the counter,” the man states, continuing to hold his shirt out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Stiles can move again. He practically sprints behind the counter, kneeling down behind it. He spots the towels and snatches them from the shelf, his hands starting to shake. He hears a small thump above him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As his head pops back up above the counter, Stiles spots the man’s belt laying on the wood surface in front of him. Looking up an inch more, he sees the man unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a white tank top perfectly framing his pecs and abs, also soaked with coffee. He sets the shirt on the counter next to the belt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles blushes something different. He jumps up and practically unrolls the entire roll of paper towels to begin patting the coffee off the man’s stomach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he starts his delicate action, the man’s hands meet his. “I’ve got it,” he practically whispers, staring down at Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What an amazing first impression! Might as well just leave now…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles lets him continue patting himself, backing off slowly. “I’m, um...I’m Stiles. Stilinski. New recruit,” he states awkwardly, lowering his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I noticed. New face. Deputy Derek Hale,” the man responds, still looking down at his tank top.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry for all this. Not the greatest first meeting.” Stiles continues looking at the ground in shame.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Derek says, “it’s not that bad. That door needs fixing anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles looks up, his eyes meeting Derek’s. His eyes are softer now in contrast to the rest of his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s gorgeous… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles forces himself into a small smile. It’s the least he could do for Derek after ruining his entire uniform. “I can bring that somewhere to be cleaned if you need it,” he says, nodding his head over to the shirt on the counter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not necessary. You’ll have plenty of beginner's stuff to do. No point in making you do my laundry.” He stops patting his stomach, moving over to the counter and throwing the wet paper towel clump over it and into a trash can. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles’ mind goes on autopilot. “Damn, that would’ve been a good way to get your number.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What in the actu-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, a flirt! I see. Two can play at that game.” Derek turns back from the counter and grins. “You really want my number?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles lets a small whine. “No, no! God, no. That’s so unprofessional. Forget I eve-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me your phone.” Derek’s hand is held out to Stiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles lets out a small huff and pulls his phone out from his pocket. He unlocks it, brings up his contacts, and hands it to Derek who then punches in his number quickly before handing it back to Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Stiles, I now have to head back home and grab my backup uniform before someone sees me like this. Head on in there and try not to drop any more things on anyone,” Derek laughs softly. He walks over to Stiles and pulls the rest of the roll of paper towels from his hand and unrolls some onto the puddle of coffee beneath their feet. He wipes most of it up, leaving some residue behind. Stiles will have to mop that up first thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Derek looks at him again. “Well? Why are you just standing there?” he questions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With no answer, Stiles quickly heads into the door to his left to the rest of the station. As soon as the door closes behind him, Stiles unlocks his phone and looks through his contact for Derek’s name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Derek Hale (the guy you dumped coffee on)</b>
  <span> was the only new addition to his list. He smiles before thinking about the past few minutes of his life, to which he frowns again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell do you think you’re doing, Stiles! You can’t flirt with this guy after spilling COFFEE on him!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A notification makes his phone ding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>D.H: We can talk more after your first shift :)</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Stiles barely breathes out through a constricted throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I adored writing this! I need to write more tbh...</p>
<p>This came from a little idea that EvanesDust and I came up with on Tumblr. Super excited to share it with you all!</p>
<p>Comments and shit give me life, so keep em' coming if you like what you read!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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